Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (16 page)

“Oh,” said Damla, “you mean Nerina Strake?” 

Kylon blinked. “You know her?” Caina kept many secrets, and most of the Ghosts of the circle did not know each other. 

“We met before you left for Pyramid Isle for the first time,” said Damla. “The Teskilati tried to assassinate an emir underneath my roof, and Nerina helped Caina stop the plot. She knows you?”

“Yes,” said Kylon. “We went into the Inferno together. She helped stop Cassander.” He shook his head. “We should speak with her at once. The woman is mad, but she is clever, and she might prove helpful.” 

“As you say,” said Agabyzus. “Let me gather a few things together, and we shall depart.” 

###

Damla took a few moments to walk through the House, checking to make sure that the ovens were dark and that the windows were barred. The one advantage of the lack of business was that she didn’t need to keep the ovens going – over the years she spent a fortune on coal and cooking oil. Of course, the lack of business would shut down the House sooner rather than later if commerce did not recover soon. Then again, Callatas might kill them all first, which would solve her money troubles.

She gave a shake of her head as she checked the last of the shutters. Her humor had become grim of late, which she supposed was one day to cope. She wondered what her husband would have thought of all this. Perhaps it was just as well he had not lived to see such dire days. 

Oddly, her thoughts turned to Tomazain. It had been a while since anyone had tried to flirt with her. Or, more accurately, it had been a while since a man had flirted with her and she had wanted to flirt back. Perhaps it was her own fear that made her want to take a risk.

Or perhaps it was because a man who could knock out an Anshani thug with a single punch might be useful. 

Damla put such musings out of her head, retrieved her crossbow, and made sure she had a quiver of quarrels and a dagger at her belt. After she had left Bayram and Bahad with instructions to turn away any visitors, she stepped out the front door and into the deserted Cyrican Bazaar. It was still warm, despite the late hour, and the stars blazed overhead. 

Kylon stood a few paces away, gazing at the sky with a distant expression on his face. He offered a nod as she approached.

They stood in silence together for a moment. 

“I am glad,” said Damla at last.

“For what?” said Kylon.

“That you and Caina had some time together,” said Damla, “and I hope you have more time together when this is over.”

He let out a breath. “Caina told you about us?”

“Well, yes,” said Damla. “Forgive me, but it was obvious. Before you left for the Inferno, I was standing near the windows with a tray of coffee. I looked out the window and saw Caina walking towards you. She was wearing a yellow dress…”

“I remember that day,” said Kylon. 

“And she kissed you on the cheek,” said Damla. “I was so astonished that I almost dropped the tray of coffee then and there.”

Kylon snorted. “I’m glad you didn’t. I would hate for you to make a mess on my account.” 

“She looked so…happy when she did,” said Damla. “I could scarce believe my eyes. Caina is many things, but happy was not one of them. At least until I saw her with you.”

Again they lapsed into silence.

“She is probably dead,” said Kylon. His voice was harsh, flat. “Callatas would not leave her alive. She was too dangerous to his plans, and she had caused him enough trouble that he would kill her out of spite. If the Red Huntress was with him, she would kill Caina just because it amused her.”

“No,” said Damla, and the words surprised her even as she spoke them. “No, she is alive.”

She found that she was certain of that.

“How do you know?” said Kylon.

“Because she is the Balarigar,” said Damla.

“The Balarigar,” said Kylon. “There is no such thing. She doesn’t even believe in the Balarigar herself. I was there when it started. She killed Rezir Shahan in Marsis, and the Szaldic slaves he had taken from the city named her the Balarigar, the legendary demonslayer of the Szalds. Then she called herself the Balarigar when she threw that Master Slaver off his balcony, and the legend grew from that.”

“No,” said Damla again. “She may not believe it herself, and you may not believe it, but I do. She is the Balarigar. The Living Flame sent her to us in our hour of need.” 

“Why do you say that?” said Kylon.

“Because,” said Damla in a soft voice, “I have seen her do miracles.” 

“Miracles,” said Kylon. She could not identify the emotion in his voice. 

“The Brotherhood took my sons,” said Damla. “I knew I would never see them again. I know what happened when the Brotherhood kidnapped people. Caina promised to get my sons back. I thought she was a madwoman, but she did it. She brought them back. I thought my brother had died years ago, but she brought him back as well. And then on the day Cassander was going to burn us all, I thought we were going to die…but we did not. You and Caina stopped him.” Damla shrugged, unsure of what to say, unsure of the words to express the truth she knew. “She is the Balarigar. We will see her again, I am certain of it.”

“I hope,” said Kylon, “that you are right.”

The door opened, and Agabyzus and Tomazain stepped out, both of them armed to the teeth. 

“Mistress Damla,” said Tomazain. “Fancy a walk? If anyone threatens you, I promise to break his jaw.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Kylon’s lip twitch in an almost-smile.

“That sounds lovely,” said Damla. 

“Let’s go talk to Nerina Strake,” said Kylon. 

Chapter 10: Ancient Trophies

Caina and Annarah hurried down the spiral stairs, and Morgant followed them, black dagger and crimson scimitar ready in his hands. A new energy had taken hold of Caina. Morgant wondered what the Knight of Wind and Air had told her. In his experience, the damned djinni was constantly enigmatic, sharing only just enough information to set Morgant upon his intended path 

But to what end? What did Samnirdamnus want? Morgant did not like serving as someone else’s pawn, though he had been the pawn of the Knight of Wind and Air for a long time. Caina had said that that djinn were enemies of the nagataaru, that Samnirdamnus himself served as a spy for the Court of the Azure Sovereign. 

So at least they had a mutual enemy in Callatas.

Still, Morgant wondered if Samnirdamnus intended to engineer their deaths. 

Well, there was only one way to find out. That, and since Samnirdamnus had gone to all that work to save Caina’s life, it seemed a waste to simply kill them all on Pyramid Isle. 

Unless, of course, Samnirdamnus had made an error.

“There is no one competent these days,” muttered Morgant. 

“What?” Caina said, glancing up at him. 

“Someday,” said Morgant, “I’m going to ask a question and get a clear answer, and the seas will turn to ashes and the sky to fire because obviously, the end of the world will be at hand.”

“Maybe,” said Caina, “but not today.” 

They hurried down the rest of the spiral stairs and returned to the corridor outside the armory. The undead baboons continued their patrol through the corridor, sweeping it in a regular pattern. Human guards would have given up by now. The nagataaru continued their relentless search, a search that would not end until they had found and killed Morgant, Annarah, and Caina. 

Caina led the way forward, sidestepping around the undead baboons as they skittered back and forth across the floor. Several times they had to duck into side rooms and wait for the baboons to pass, but step by step they made their way into the heart of the Tomb and back to the domed chamber.

“Where now?” said Morgant. 

“This way,” said Caina, pointing at one of the hieroglyph-lined passages. “Back up to the library, and then to the throne room and the trophy room.”

“The trophy room?” said Morgant. “What, did the djinni tell you to start using the amphorae of Hellfire?”

“He did,” said Caina. 

Annarah frowned. “But if we use the Hellfire, we’ll burn with the undead.” 

“Maybe,” said Caina, “but I don’t think so. I think Kharnaces made another mistake. He shouldn’t have left that valikon in his trophy room, and I think he left something else in there that he should have destroyed.” 

“And the Knight told you that, did he?” said Morgant.

“Yes,” said Caina. “Let’s see if he was right or not.” 

###

It took Caina and the others several minutes to cross the library of Kharnaces. The papyrus scrolls sat on their shelves, shielded by their preservation spells, the wards shining with a hazy gray light to the vision of the valikarion. Nearly a score of undead baboons crawled through the library, and several times Caina and Annarah and Morgant had to behind a shelf and wait for a baboon to pass. 

At last, they crossed the library and entered the throne room. The ornate marble throne, once holding the mummified and masked body of Kharnaces, still rested upon its dais. The marble slab that had concealed the hidden compartment beneath the throne lay upon its side where Caina and Morgant had left it. To her surprise, neither undead baboons nor warriors guarded the throne room or the trophy chamber. Perhaps the nagataaru did not think they would have made it this far alive.

Or perhaps the nagataaru, like Kharnaces himself, had made the mistake of assuming that nothing in the trophy room could be used against them. 

The trophy room had not changed since Caina’s last visit. The rack of Hellfire amphorae filled one wall. The design of the amphorae was different than the amphorae the Alchemists of Istarinmul used, the neck a little longer, the handles a little wider, but with the sight of the valikarion, she saw the harsh, furious power of Hellfire within the containers, its fiery potency undiminished by the centuries. 

Niches lines the other tree walls, and stone pedestals stood around the room. On the pedestals and in the niches rested the trophies of the Great Necromancer Kharnaces. Many bore the marks of battle. Caina saw shields and swords and helmets of bronze and iron, all of them scorched or bearing marks of violence. One pedestal held a thick tome that looked like the Book of Corazain that Caina had dumped into the Alqaarin Sea, though this book was badly charred. There were golden ornaments, and she saw three damaged wedjet-dahns, torques of gold and jade adorned with precious stones. Every single item in the room glowed with sorcerous power, and most of the pedestals and niches had been sealed with warding spells. Caina had no idea what most of the relics or trophies did.

She stepped into the trophy room, glancing at the empty niche that held the valikon now sheathed at her belt. 

“I suppose one of these things will destroy nagataaru?” said Morgant. 

“This will,” said Caina, tapping the valikon’s pommel. “One at a time, anyway.” 

“We need to destroy rather more than one at a time,” said Morgant.

“The Hellfire can do that,” said Caina.

“Oh, certainly,” said Morgant. “And we’ll burn with it. There are lots and lots of ways to die, but burning to death isn’t more of the pleasant ones.” 

“No, it’s not,” said Caina, thinking of Rolukhan’s screams as he had plunged to his death. “But that’s the problem. An amphora of Hellfire is too much. Break that and you can burn a ship to ashes or blow up a building…”

“You would know,” said Morgant.

Caina chose to ignore that. “But the Alchemists throw vials of Hellfire when they’re in battle. They don’t throw entire amphorae.” She walked through the pedestals of stone, examining the relics. “My first day in Istarinmul, I saw an Istarish war galley. The Istarish have always used Hellfire in battle. Their ships have a spraying mechanism to pump Hellfire at enemy vessels. But where did they get that?” She looked at the rack of Hellfire amphorae. “The Alchemists used to serve the Great Necromancers of Maat. That means the ancient Maatish used Hellfire in war, and that means they had to have some method of using it against their enemies without burning themselves up.” 

“You’ve seen how undead burn,” said Morgant. “Like walking pieces of kindling.”

“Exactly,” said Caina. She stopped at the end of the rack of Hellfire amphorae, gazing at one of the niches. “They had armies of undead, which meant they must have had a way of using Hellfire…”

A thrill went through her as she gazed at the mechanism in the niches, and she drew the valikon from her belt. 

“And I think this was it,” said Caina.

A peculiar machine of bronze and silver rested within the niche. It was about the size of Caina’s head, its core built of gears and metallic tubes. Its base looked like an intricate metal grapnel, while its top was a metallic cone with the tip cut off. Powerful warding spells had been woven throughout the entire apparatus, and Caina suspected the spells had been designed to shield against intense heat and flame.

Like the kind of firestorm Hellfire could unleash. 

“That machine,” said Annarah. “It looks like it could fit over the mouth of an amphora.” 

“I think so,” said Caina, raking the valikon through the center of the niche. The warding spell flared and collapsed as the ghostsilver blade unraveled the spell. She sheathed the valikon and picked up the machine. It was a much heavier than it looked, and she had to strain a little to lift it. 

The metal felt freezing cold beneath her fingers, so cold that she did not think she could carry it for long. 

“Look at the base,” said Annarah, and Caina turned the machine over. The base was a metal ring, lined with gripping arms, a spike rising from the center of the ring. The spike looked hollow, with a small aperture at its tip.

As if it had been designed to pierce the seal of a Hellfire amphora and siphon out controlled amounts of the substance. 

“Are we going to test it?” said Annarah. 

“Yes,” said Caina. “In the throne room. That way if it explodes, it hopefully will not set off every single amphora at once.”

“Yes,” said Morgant.

“You're very agreeable today,” said Caina.